The Only Doll He Couldn't Cut
by Blackrose Sinclaire
Summary: Vincent Nightray is a man who lives without happiness. Yet he has not broken but remains intact with one goal in mind. To erase his existence from this world entirely. Noise, having been his faithful servant since his childhood, is addicted to his painful love. Can she fix him? And what will she do once he's no longer broken? (Vincent x Noise/Echo)


The Only Doll  
He Couldn't Cut

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Vincent x Noise/Echo One-shot.

Warning: Rated T for mention of nudity, sexual themes and (some, not much) violence. Some of the things in this fanfiction might be a trigger for some people, although I don't really write anything truly graphic/rape. Also, this fanfiction contains spoilers regarding Noise/Echo's past as well as Vincent's. Please read the manga before reading any fanfiction! I'd really hate to spoil something for you guys.

While writing this, I was listening to: Once (by Bradley Caleb Kane)

I think it fits this scenario rather well and sets the mood if you're reading it.

I'm completely open to constructive criticism! Feel free to tell it like it is! But please also be nice. I'd really appreciate it. Thank you so much for reading~

I don't own Pandora Hearts or any of its beautiful characters of course!

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"Zwei...how would you wish to see me killed?"

It was late at the Nightray estate, the moon glowing like a flag in the sky, the stars littering the expanse of space and bathing the room in a dull nightime glow. No candles in the room were lit, no lamps were burning, as were Vincent's instructions.

He had not had a good day. His brother, Gilbert, had come to visit and instead of ending in pleasantness-or even a shower of Vincent's trivial banter-it ended in violence and angry voices. Echo wasn't sure exactly what had happened. Vincent hadn't let her remain with him while the visit took place. He never did. But she knew that after it was over, Vincent had required alcohol. Lots of alcohol.

Now, he sat in the window seat with several bottles surrounding him, moonlight turning his blonde hair to gold in an alchemy all its own.

Echo had been expecting something from her master, but not this. Vincent never called her Zwei. He had never had a fondness for the name. Besides, when he had first met her other personality-Noise, her first personally-he had been the one to bestow her with her name. He seemed fond of it. So why now was he calling her by the alias she used among the Baskervilles?

"I...do not wish to see you killed, Vincent-sama…" Echo whispered, her grip on her tray tightening. A few empty glasses sat on the tray. "Would you like more wine?"

He turned to her, smiling childishly, eyes shut. "No, I think that would be a bad idea...you see, I'm beginning to see two of you...Zwei…"

When he smiled like that, eyes closed, it was easy to forget that he was a child of misfortune, easy to forget that his red eye had killed hundreds of people.

It was so easy that she almost wanted to love him.

Until she remembered that she hated him.

"Or should I say...Echo...and Noise…" Vincent whispered, his grin fading and becoming a small, sentimental smile. His eyes were dark, with his back to the window and the moon that hung in the sky. He stood up and staggered slightly, gripping the wall.

"Vincent-sama," Echo said, blinking in surprise. She set the tray down. "Do you need help getting to bed?"

He ignored her, reaching out and snaking his finger around her waist. He pulled her to him, his other hand brushing her cheek and pushing the hair out of her face. "Where are you in there, Noise?" he whispered, his fingers curling dangerously around her neck. In that moment, Echo knew that with a flick of his wrist, he could end her life. And yet his touch was as gentle as the touch of a feather on sleeping skin.

"I need you…" Vincent whispered. Echo looked up at him and his smile filled her vision, so bittersweet that it was almost painful to look at. To her surprise and confusion, Vincent's mismatched eyes were filled with tears. So many tears that they overflowed and spilled down his cheeks, falling off his chin.

She flailed slightly in his arms. "V-Vincent-sa…"

He pulled her hips to his. "I need you," he repeated. "Noise…" He tilted his head, tears running down the side of his nose and and down his other cheek.

Echo didn't understand. She didn't want to lose control. She hated Noise, she hated her control over her body. And yet she felt her grasp get weaker. And then Echo didn't know anything at all.

The girl slumped forward into Vincent's arms and he tightened his grasp on her hips to keep her standing.

He waited, expression void, eyes dull, for Noise to return to him. She always did, eventually. Just as she had returned to him that day, so many years ago. The second day he had gone to see her as a young Baskerville. When Doldum had invaded her body like a parasite, Vincent had been the one to request her return. And she'd come to him. Always, she came to him. She loved him...and although he hadn't always known what to call it, he assumed that what he felt for her was as close to love as a child of misfortune could come...twisted though it was.

As he gripped her hips, a slow, mischievous smile spread across his face-the alcohol having its intended effect. He rubbed her hips with his strong hands, one gloved hand wandering to her ass as he cupped it in his hand and squeezed it.

She squeaked lightly and lifted her pale face to the noble. Her gray eyes seemed to swirl with life, a life that Vincent could have gotten just as drunk on as he'd gotten on the wine.

"You were...in need of my services?" she asked, tilting her head and looking at him with those intelligent eyes.

"I missed you…" He fingered her skirt in his hands. "You always leave me for so long…" He tilted his head and nuzzled his face into her neck, his messy blonde hair hanging around his face. "It's your emotion that makes you that way, you know. Echo has no feelings of her own, therefor she has no reason to lose control of this body. You, on the other hand…"

He turned and pushed her to the wall, his hips pinning her. She bit her lip, wanting to moan but holding it in. "I'm chained by my feelings." She looked up at him, eyes contemplating, venomous. "Literally."

She reached up, pulling his face down to hers. She stroked his cheek, coaxing him into closing those pretty eyes of his. "I have too many emotions. I'm too alive for a ghost like you, whose only wish to his existence is to not have one." He shuddered slightly as his eyes closed and she kissed each closed eyelid once, softly.

He sank slowly to his knees, hugging her and pulling her into his lap. "You've been drinking…" she observed. "What happened?"

"Lunch with Gilbert," Vincent explained. "It didn't go well."

"Why?" Her fingers ran down his cheek, curving under his chin and finding his chest.

"Because he knows that I never forgot our childhood...he knows that I'm hiding things from him."

"And what do you intend to do about it?"

"There's no point in telling him…" he hissed. "I'm going to erase my existence. The Vincent that he knows won't be a bother to him for much longer…"

"I see…" she mused as he held her in his lap like a doll, stroking her hair.

She reached up to touch his face again. She loved that beautiful face. "And what if there was someone whose existence relied on yours. Would you destroy another life in the process of saving so many?" she whispered.

He grabbed her wrist before it could reach his face. "A child of misfortune can only create destruction wherever he walks. The only way I can atone for my sins is by completely erasing my existence in this world."

"What if there was someone who couldn't live without Vincent Nightray?"

"What do you mean?" he asked in a shaky voice, pulling her arm to her chest and clutching her tightly.

"Someone who...would have been destroyed, not by having him in her life but by his absence? Someone whose very lifeblood, very air, revolved around the man you call Vincent Nightray…"

"There isn't a person in this world whose existence follows those bounds…" he whispered angrily.

"You're wrong," she mused.

"Excuse me?" His breath was ragged, his words slurred.

"You're wrong, Vincent. Completely and utterly wrong…"

He shoved her roughly to the ground, hands pinning each arm to the hardwood floor, kneeling between her legs. "I'm an aberration! We both are. You of all people should know that people like us can never find love and we can never be loved!"

She winced, trying not to let it show that he was hurting her. Shaded by his hair, his eyes looked wild. Insane. And in the light of his decisions, they probably were. Vincent's sanity was probably something that had been broken long ago, within the walls of Sabrie.

Noise just shook her head and chuckled. "You forget something, Vincent…" she whispered, gripping his hips with her legs and twisting, flipping him on his side. She took advantage of his surprise and broke his grip on her arms, lifting herself up and pinning him to the ground underneath her as she straddled his hips tightly.

"We are both aberrations...and that means that the only ones who can love us are each other…" She leaned down and tilted her head, kissing him deeply.

His whole body shook as she pinned him there to the ground. At first, he was too stunned to kiss her back, but slowly and tentatively, he responded. His eyes slipped shut and he too tilted his head to the side, kissing her deeper and deeper.

His shaking hands lifted to her waist, holding her as he kissed her. Her hands in turn slowly ran up his arms to his neck, fingers lacing in with his golden hair.

Vincent pulled her body flush up against his, one hand taking a hold of her thigh as their lips parted, a small bridge of spit hanging between their lips in the moonlight.

"N...N-Noise…" whispered the noble.

A smile was carved into her face. "You said you needed me, didn't you...Vincent-sama?"

He looked at her, taking her in hungrily. He wanted her badly, so badly...but somehow, he was holding back and he didn't know why. His stomach hurt. It felt like something in his gut was twisted, and there was no way of untwisting it. Was this what love felt like? Because it was horrible.

Did it really matter if he took her virginity anyway? If he erased his existence, she'd never have known him. Her virginity would be safe...and though he was definitely no virgin himself, taking her was something he'd wanted to do for too long...it would be nice to leave the world knowing that at least for a brief time, she had been his and his alone.

Could he die happy knowing that?

And what if there was someone whose existence relied on yours. Would you destroy another life in the process of saving so many?

Her words reverberated in his mind painfully.

"You were talking about yourself, right? ...When you said that?" he whispered as they gazed into each other's eyes. Her eyes locked with his and he just knew.

And then they were all over each other. Noise kissed his neck, sucking on it and leaving a dark mark on his collarbone, licking up his neck and up to his ear. "I love you…" she whispered before moving on to mark up some place new.

His skilfull hands undressed her with a speed that left her breathless. He unbuttoned the front of her dress, pulling it off her shoulders as he kissed her chest. His hands wandered inside her dress, fondling her waist and pulling her undershirt up, though not completely off. He kissed her neck. She gasped, hips shifting as he kissed her, lower and lower. Her underwear was what stopped him. She shrugged her dress off, sitting up on his stomach as she hastily tried to get her boots off.

He smiled and undid the buckles holding them up at her thighs. Then they slid down with ease and she was able to slip them off quickly. She grabbed the front of his clothes, pulling him up as she slid into his lap comfortably. She pulled him over her as she leaned her body against the wall, opening up his robes and licking up his chest. He shivered and moaned.

With dark eyes, he looked her body up and down. With her dress off, the only thing covering her was her underwear and undershirt, crumpled halfway up her waist. "Such a thin layer of clothing separating you from me…" he whispered seductively. "Wouldn't it be easier if I just cut it away?"

And suddenly his scissors were in his hands, reflecting starlight along their sharp blades.

She paused, eyeing the blades. "If it would bring you closer to me…" she whispered, running her fingers through his hair.

He brought his scissors up, slicing through the front of her shirt expertly. The dull side of the blade ran up her stomach, the metal cold. She shivered. He opened her shirt up, revealing a black lace bra underneath. He chuckled. "What an interesting taste in undergarments…"

"Problem?"

"Mmm no…" He lowered his face to her chest, kissing her chest lower and lower. He ran one hand up her thigh and as her breathing quickened, she lost track of the other hand, the hand his scissors rested in. A dark smile spread over his lips like the plague and he kissed up her collarbone, kissing her ear and nipping it with his teeth. She moaned, her hips thrusting forward on instinct. He shivered and bit his lip. He kissed her neck, biting it and sucking. His hands curled around her waist, hips dangerously close to hers.

And then suddenly the unmistakable snip of his golden scissors sounded behind her back and the straps of her bra were cut. Her bra fell forward into her lap and he smiled down at her with eyes that were so full of emotion that they looked as though they could devour her in a glance.

"Vincent…" she whispered. "Do you love me?"

He paused for a moment. "I don't like the word 'love'. I hate it, actually."

"Then...what do you think of me?"

"I...need you," he whispered.

That was what he kept telling himself. I need her, so I'll take her.

He picked her up and she gasped slightly, her legs going around his hips for support. He cups his hands around her thighs, holding her tightly in his grasp as he walked to the bed, setting her down then pushing her to the blankets, bending over her.

She lay on the bed submissively, shoulders pressed up against the mattress. Yet somehow when she looked at him, she didn't look like she belonged to him, she looked at him as if it was much the other way around.

She pushed his robes off his shoulders and they fell off of him, off the bed and onto the floor. He unbuttoned his shirt and threw it off, then started to unbuckle his pants.

Noise smiled and ran her hands over his chest. He shivered, back arching. Her hands groped his chest, wandering down to his hips. Her hands slipped into his pants as she pulled them down. He gasped and moaned loudly, legs wobbling as he leaned over her, his whole body on fire.

This is my goodbye present to the world, he told himself. So goodbye…

He pulled her hips to his again, only underwear separating them. His hips ground down on hers and she bit her lip, a moan escaping her. Her chest heaved. He leaned down over her body and licked up her stomach, tongue trailing around her breast. He kissed her chest lovingly and rubbed her hip.

His hips ground down on hers again and she threw her head back, cheeks flushed.

"So much…" he whispered.

"W...Wha…" she gasped.

"I need you so much…" His bangs were in his eyes.

"Don't push yourself, Vincent…"

He blinked. The calm smile on her face confused him to no end. He'd never understand that smile. How could she do that? Just smile as if all was well and there was no wrong in the world? His very existence was wrong. How could she smile that way around him? She was supposed to be crying, screaming, trying to get away. She wasn't supposed to want him back. Instead, she lay limply in his arms, a doll ready to be broken, a toy that was waiting to be played with.

She breathed in the scent of him. She smelled alcohol on his breath, smelled traces of mice, a scent that followed him everywhere as the contractor of Dormouse.

He hunched over her once again, fondling her small body in his arms, groping her. His hips grinded on hers, making her squeak and moan loudly. Yet somehow he just couldn't do it. He couldn't remove that layer of clothing, so thin and so real. He couldn't take her. It was fun to play around. Her body had always been his favorite toy. But he couldn't get serious.

"Vincent…" she whispered, drawing his lips toward hers and kissing him gently. "I said...don't push yourself." She kissed his nose.

"Why do you keep saying that…" he hissed.

She smiled sadly at him. "I should have let Echo serve you tonight."

This struck him to his core. "What?"

He smelled...blood. Vincent looked down and right in the middle of her chest, the sharp blade of his scissors had pierced her skin in a small point, a small trickle of blood running down between her breasts and down her stomach.

"Doll indeed…" he whispered, eyes going wide.

He pushed off of her quickly, standing too fast. The world swam dizzily and he staggered back, hitting the wall. He put his hand up to his face, seeing the scissors still hanging from his fingers. He twirled them expertly around his pointer finger, gripped them and then stuck them violently into the wall.

"Get out," he growled.

She sat up, looking at him with that same sad yet painfully peaceful look. As if she'd long ago figured out something that he was only just beginning to understand. She just looked at him...and her eyes pierced into him deeper than any blade ever could.

"Get out!" he yelled harshly.

She shuddered slightly at his words. She stood up, looking around for her clothes. With her bra and undershirt all cut up as they were, she reached for her dress quickly and pulled the blue fabric around her, buttoning it sloppily and grabbing her boots.

"Until next time, Vincent-sama…" she whispered, stopping in front of him, turning and grabbing his face, kissing him. "Until you can live for me as I live for you…"

He didn't kiss her back.

She turned and left, the door shutting quickly behind her.

Vincent stood there, breathing raggedly as his body was pressed up against the wall. He was wearing nothing, but his body was still burning from her touch, burning hot enough that he wondered if he remembered what the cold felt like.

She made him feel...off. His stomach was so twisted up. He was restless, anxious...didn't know what to do with himself. He looked to the stuffed animals on his dresser and a small part of him wondered why he didn't gut them on the spot.

But no part of Vincent wanted to dig his scissors into those...those toys.

Every time he looked at them, he saw her face. In a flash, he had been ready to gut her, just like all the rest.

Was he really so twisted that that was love to him? Was he really so cruel and terrible and broken that in order to love her, he had to open her up first?

Did he hunger for her sweet blood?

That was Vincent, after all. That was the color of his very being. Red. Red eyes, red scars, red blood...everything was so red.

He fell to his knees, shaking and sobbing.

So much red.

Outside, the sloppily dressed Noise leaned against the wall as tears ran down her face. She loved Vincent so much. But she didn't know how to help him love her back.

Everything about her love seemed so wrong. She needed to fix him, she told herself. She needed to work on him. Make him love her. Help him love her.

She would be good for him, she told herself.

She could make everything that was wrong with Vincent Nightray right. She could undo years of silent pain.

But if love meant changing someone, was it really love? She was supposed to love Vincent for the way he was, not the way he could be. She was supposed to care for him, not make him worth caring for.

But he was just so broken that it was painful to think about. And as she heard him cry, she cried too. She cried for him. Somehow, she felt that was all she ever did while residing within Echo, waiting for her chance to take control of her body once more. All she could do was cry for Vincent Nightray.

That was the only love Noise seemed capable of. The eternal mending of a broken heart.

The mending of the man who hated himself so thoroughly that he didn't simply want to die. He wanted to undo himself from this world completely.

She sank to the ground, her hold on her body loosening.

As Echo retook control, all she could do was wonder: if she ever did fix Vincent Nightray, whatever would she do with herself when she had no more wounds to heal?

What would she do when that man, her beautiful ruined man, was not a ruined man anymore?


End file.
